Temptress of the Night
by Neiiya
Summary: My hands are forever stained crimson in the blood of my foes, I cannot be saved nor do I want to, for it is in this blood your hand takes mine. ShoujoAi
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Noir. Unfortunately I do not hold the pleasure of creating this fine Anime of love, hate, and betrayal. If I did, I assure you, there would be far more vulgar scenes but that's neither here nor there.

**Summary**: With each existence I erase from this world, another shattered piece of my soul slips away into the abyss of my sins. My hands forever stained crimson in the blood of my foes, I cannot be saved nor do I want to, for it is in this blood your hand takes mine.

**Warnings**: SPOILERS!! Post Anime. There is one I should say however that might be a spoiler (To this story) so I would rather not. I guess the easiest way to describe this would be a bittersweet story of love and death. Anyone under 17 may want to heed back out at this point, if not don't bitch about it later on. Characters are somewhat OOC. Features fairly strong language and dark themes. Not for the weak hearted.

(This is currently an Un-BETA'd version. My lovely Beta is currently in the works of finishing it.)

Temptress of the Night

"_Noir_

_It is the name of an ancient fate_

_Two maidens who govern death_

To the depths of Hell's fire 

_Their black souls lure the lost children"_

Strands of life devoid of all colors, values, moralities manifest plains of existence forever deluded by the essences unique to mankind. In truth mankind shares no difference than the abundant leaches dwelling in mires of filth, nor are we different from the epitome of fury herself, the carnivores of this world, sinking their unbridled fangs through the prey's neck. We are all the same: holding true one idealistic moral above all else: survival of the fittest. Beneath all our deceiving ideologies there lies a snake, a twisting, convulsing reptile portraying the need of survival: A harsh, volatile, creature hell bent on our continued existence. It is through such a means of self-assurance that atrocities unbefitting creatures of intelligence become easily justified. I will not elude you, I am no saint, I am no guardian angel from heaven; I am a killer. I end lives without mercy, without sympathy or discrimination, for my own survival. I take it upon myself, and my own horribly mutated revelations, to kill, not out of any personal need I may have but solely for those whom pay, forever producing new chains of my sins to weave around my soul.

However, despite how morbidly antagonistic I may appear to be, I do confide to put faith into a set of morals. It is through these means that I truly become more bestial than humane for it is these principles in which I find justification for my atrocities. Death itself is an anomaly, a simplistic result of our line of work as assassins, and not something to be lingered upon for the weak willed. A simplistic occurrence becomes far more easily acknowledged and accepted, persisting to question this abnormality that in reality is far too complex for our frail minds to handle, can often times result in a self destructive road towards insanity. By deceiving ourselves the severe complexity of the fate we mercilessly deal out, we are in fact preserving our own mentality but with all acts of avoidance there comes a price too horrifying to pay. While being fully capable to emotionlessly send others to their deaths but unable to face your own, a hypocritical situation, tension grows and flourishes within that person's psyche until released in a brief moment of insanity and, most often, drawing the conclusion of death. I do not fear death, that day oh so long ago I began my training in assassination I passed myself over as already dead. No I don't fear dying in the slightest bit, what I do fear is loss. My partner, my friend… I fear for her. Kirika, my beautiful Kirika, what condemns us to this fate?

"Mireille," your voice a soft ragged whimper in the cool night. Black untangled locks of wispy hair trailing down just short of your shoulders with your rumpled crimson dress clinging tightly to delicate skin, my breath forever held tightly in my throat. One would not believe you're the same girl whom merely days ago portrayed a cold, calculating killer devoid of all emotions. What is this devilry before me now? You are so frail, I can see it in your eyes; see the years of pain withheld and hidden away, the quiet, obedient girl you have become, now a byproduct of our profession. Kirika, why do you do this to me, another woman, who gave you the right to affect me so? Damn you!

I'm trembling, me, daughter of Corsican, reduced to this...repulsive state of insecurity by a mere whimper, a lonely gasp from an even lonelier girl in her sleep. Why Kirika? Why do you wish to destroy me so? My hand reaches out to brush your soft, tainted, skin without my consent, this feeling, and this warmth… Flooding my soul by a single touch of flesh, is capable of stealing away my breath? Damn you, Kirika, damn you to the fires of hell!

"Mireille," you whisper, again stealing away my breath, ripping the air straight out of my lungs leaving me to suffocate in my own uncertainty. Is this what I have been reduced to? Is this what I've become? I wanted to kill you; you knew that. I wanted to wipe your very existence from this earth not because of my promise but because of what you do to me. How unconsciously you tear down every defense I erect before myself, penetrating my very existence with your piercing stare. You make me weak, so very weak, oh how I hated you! I hated caring for you!

"Kirika," I murmur, barely audible. Where has my strength gone? You have taken it away, taken away my cool, calculating exterior and left me with this frail shell. Why do I hesitate? I fail to control my emotions, my actions, everything, when you're near. I hate you, I love you, and you've completely broken me.

Why does this hurt so much, why does caring for you seem so sinful? You killed them, the two people I cherished above all else, the two I could once call family you tore them away in a haze of blood and screams and left me for dead. "Fuck you Kirika! Loving you hurts so damn much!" It's all too much to take; I can feel the shadows of my strength slipping away into the night, the cool breeze a razor cutting through my aching heart. I will burn in hell for this; I know that will be true.

"Kirika why do you torment me so?" Trying to scream but I can't find the energy; my words come out frail and empty. "Why? You killed my mother, my father, you have ruined my life but I can't find the heart to kill you." Murky tears fling from my cheeks to drape across my outstretched arm, shaking, pointing the wicked barrel of my Five-Seven to your wretched heart. Your very presence unnerves me so; you have cut away the façade of calmness I portray, you have become the roots of my undoing, you have become my very anchor to sanity! Why can't I kill you? Why is it so hard to imagine you gone forever?

Just one pull, one little squeeze of my finger and all this will end. Squeeze, Mireille, squeeze, and you will be free from her burden, free to return to your old life of sweet solitude. Just one more centimeter, just one more, and she will eternally sleep: never to rise again. Calm your trembling feelings, Mireille, you need this, your whimpering soul needs this. Her death will mend your aching heart, so squeeze, squeeze and walk away.

My hand shudders, my brow heavy with sweat, as my finger slowly compresses the trigger. Before you die, I spare one last glance to who you are, and what you've become. My memories, my torn soul will heal as long as you die. As long as you die! So close, so very close now, come Mireille, just one last fraction to go but it seems so far away. "Do it," I nearly scream, "Do it Mireille!"

My will, now resolved, I shift my gaze back up from the floor to your figure only to suffocate, feeling the hot blood within my veins pulsing, flowing uncontrollably as strength leaves me.

Your small, petite, feeble even, body unmoving amongst the silk sheets draped around your unconscious form, chest rising and falling in sync with breathing as you drift amid the land of dreams. It is in this moment I know I could never hurt you; my love has become my downfall. Falling to the soft comfort of the bed, I sob in what must be a pitiful sight of passion. Strangely, warmth entwines around my stomach, your tainted skin brushing my own in a blissful heat of sinful embraces. Kirika, my Kirika, what I have become?

"Mireille," I hear your sweet voice of reason, the voice in the heart of my nightmares, the voice tearing down my walls. Oh Kirika! The fleeting light of hope forever dies, in a startle I look into your eyes, your beautiful eyes of emptiness yet tinged with passion, and I know I'm doomed.

Your hazel eyes strip away my façade leaving me bare to search through. "Mireille… I… I'm…." I know what you're going to say and believe me, I don't want to heart it, I can't hear it! Those three words tearing asunder my soul, a serrated blade of hurt to comfort me in my time of weakness, my heart throbbing within, convulsing, as if those very words determined the arrival if its fall. Tears of hurt, of anger, hatred even, threaten to tear new lines of crimson down my cheeks.

"Shut up!" I scream, throwing your frail body against the wall with a hideous crack the plaster breaks and crumbles to the floor. My hand grasping the crimson cloth covering your chest, "Don't say it! Don't fucking say it!" Breaking the calm environment of our secluded room. You're frightened I can see it, feel it, in your eyes, are you frightened by me, Kirika? "Don't you ever apologize to me for what you did, that will never bring them back! It will never erase my pain of loss." Sobbing in a fit of tears and anger into your bosom, Kirika, who truly is the protective one in our relationship?

"I wanted, so desperately, to kill you… to resolve the one issue tearing my insides apart but I can't…. I can't kill you, Kirika. I hate you but the thought of never seeing you again is so daunting… so terrifying. Who the fuck gave you the right to do this to me?" Glaring into your gentle eyes shining with regret, in a moment of, surprisingly enough, boldness unbefitting your withdrawn nature, your hand snakes around my back cradling me against your petite chest in my darkest hours.

A sensation of bewilderment clashes with a desire for the end, the end of pain: finding my home amongst your beautifully wretched bosom. Warmth of the darkest nature entwines around me as I look up into the compassionate gaze clearly etched across your face. Were your eyes always so vivid, even mystifying? Brushing the silent tears streaming down my cheeks your touch is electrifying. The innocent caress sending shivers down my pitifully weak body my legs give in lurching me forward atop you.

"Oh Kirika, I want to kill you, I want to hurt you, to love you, to feel you…. I just want to… forget.. Everything." My actions betray my mind, speaking aloud the very thoughts I never wished to share. "But I can't… I see their faces… hovering before me, I hear the last sound they ever made in this world, their screams, as if it is forever engrained into me." Your arm tightens, taunt muscles clutching me close in your wonderful sinful embrace, and I can hear your heart beating quickly and taste your very uncertainty. Since when have I become this weak? Or have I always deluded myself from this painful truth with my cold exterior?

"Mireille…. I… Don't know what to do," you hesitantly gasp. How hard was it for you to utter such a phrase? To admit your weakness, oh Kirika, how much are you willing to give for me?

"Just hold me… please," speaking the last word in a whisper of frailty. Succumbing to your vampiric embrace of warmth.

In four words I managed to forever acknowledge the very fact I spent my entire life misleading myself from, I always knew it was there, lurking in the shadows of my soul, beneath every pretense I tried oh so desperately to create: the poison coursing through my horrid veins. I could not accept weakness, no I would not believe in my weakness, perhaps in doing so my fears would not manifest and turn into reality. Fear runs my very life, the source of all my actions of alienation from society. If I never allow a single person to view the 'true' me, I'll never be hurt, right? Right? I would spare that person, and myself, a future of discontent and tragedy, through isolation. But you… you an emotionally detached, timorous even, child have slipped through my defenses and into the frozen heart just barely beating within. Rearranging every characteristic, ever feeling, action, thoughts, and beliefs I hold within into one jumbled pile of filth, no longer can I differentiate from my façade and my true self, no longer am I able to hide my fears for you have exposed them before my very eyes.

It hurts; it hurts so very much I can't breathe. Everything is black, there're no colors of light, no sounds of nature, nothing but this bleak, corrupted reality. And through this never-ending night, I see you… Standing motionless before me, and I can hear the drops of blood splatter across the ground and smell their repulsive scent perforating the air. I promised to kill you, I showed you nothing but neglect and hostility yet you still protect me, why?

God damnit! Why?

How can you, an utterly pathetic little girl, of the most astonishingly perverse nature, find it in yourself, to care? For anything at all, for this world that has neglected you, that has chained and corroded every fabric of peace and tranquility leaving a dark hell of nothingness. Is it wrong to hate such a thing?

Is it wrong to love the darkness?

Is it wrong to embrace the pain?

In saving my life you were forced to sacrifice the only other person to acknowledge your existence, your feelings, and truly regard you in a different light. The three of us, we were Noir, we were sin, leading the divine path of sin we stained our very hands in the blood of mankind so we could shoulder the taint and corruption on our own beings to spare the rest from this merciless fate. We killed in the name of God, in the name of perverse judgment, purging society of darkness by becoming the very sin we are eradicating. The three of us, sisters, each possessing a tragic past from which a new being was born, a being of utter oblivion, we led a life ultimately leading to a fate of despair, we knew and accepted that, for our hands were forever together. Forever together…until you killed her, our own brethren, to save my life.

The betrayal surfacing in Chloe's eyes in you rejecting her love, the hurt, the anguish consuming the misled girl, I know it hurt you beyond anything else. You endured the horror of ending the girl's life, the girl whom loved you above any other, solely to protect me… Am I so weak I need your protection? Am I truly just a mere burden, just chains of guilt wrapped around your heart? Or did you protect me for yourself to? I truly don't know, Kirika, and it's tearing me apart inside.

When you stabbed Chloe in the heat of passion and fear, I truthfully believed your heart would stop, in all the years to come I will never fully erase that image from my mind, of the twisted, horrified look engraved upon your face by the same horrid blade blossoming amongst the blood. The confused, disbelieving anguish of another sin committed, another step taken towards becoming the true Noir. Drenched in the blood of a loved one, the blood you yourself spilled, I cannot begin to fathom what such a thing must feel like… If it were you there dying, and me stained in your crimson essence of life, there would be no sadness surging from within, there would be no despair, no happiness… There would be nothing left within me to care for this world, for anything, ever again. I would be incapable of ever feeling a sliver of emotion for the rest of my existence. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know, I would seek you in death to say the things I never could in life.

The memory shatters into jagged pieces slipping away into the night as I am pulled into yet another recollection basking in the twilight of a bloody moon's rise. Electricity cuts through the air, a perpetual spark igniting a continuously growing pressure as thunder cracks in the heavens above. Monotonous buildings depicting a lifeless, dank street of houses too tall for their structure to withstand, too dark for their to be any light, as if manifested out of an old horror novel.

Taking one fearful step forward, into the darkness, I gaze upon the person you have become…. No, the person you had hidden away beneath all your interior directives, into a place you wished never to find. This…. Thing before me, she is you and yet she is not. Shadows of your previous self, almost transparent, flitter across the being before me…

"You have come…" So empty, your voice is so empty.

Gazing into the eyes that once held a withdrawn sorrow, yet an undeniably strong will, now lifeless orbs of manipulated faith, my very breath leaves. This is…. Irrefutably you, shuddering my hand reaches out as if to grasp you, to pull you back and never let go but you are to far gone. To far gone… My hand drops under your stare, choking upon this revelation creeping into the fragments of my heart.

"Leave, Mireille…. Or I'll kill you."

People say time mends all wounds, whether innate, physical, or psychological, that even the most isolated souls can eventually find rest, but time, for me, is nothing more than the proverbial razor of which I bleed from. Is it the same for you? If you could, would you take back what you did, knowing doing so, we may never meet? The temptress of the night, she is so frightening, she beckons my to come hither, to embrace, accept, and become the very dark herself. Then, more than ever, was I ever truly considering my weaknesses, and fully succumbing, as you had.

I hated you, I still do, there is no uncertainty about that, but I wanted you by my side. Whether pain, pleasure, tragedy, I wanted you to be there with me, for with you near me I could find the courage to carry on with anything and everything this cruel life gives to us, as long as you're with me…. And I know somewhere; somehow, you felt the same way.

Then I saw you, through all the pain, through all the heartache, all the sorrow, I saw you standing before me, a girl, no a woman, of the night herself. The darkest depths of a nightmare entwined with your very soul, your eyes of hate, betrayal, eating away my skin, the little certainty I had left in life. In weakness, of strength stripped away, I left you.

Forever.

The word was never spoken, but unmistakably present between us. Part of me succumbed to the darkness from that night, and it will forever be so, however enough of my wavering sanity preserved to later find the strength to chase after you.

I searched my soul not knowing what to look for, not knowing what I would find, foolishly hoping against every instinct screaming within that I could find some trace of you. I searched, and I searched, and I searched, finding nothing time and again, nothing, you left not a trace behind, no marks, no footsteps, not a single sign to show me beyond a shadow of a doubt that you ever truly existed.

Were you ever truly here? You were always so distant, so reserved and isolated, not even your shadow knows where to look for you amid this eternal dream. Not knowing who you are, what you did, why you existed, I pitied you for your austere reality but maybe, just maybe, you were better off knowing nothing. A past that rules your future is no longer the past but chains of deceit leading you down one barren path of emptiness.

My apartment, our one place of sanctuary, turned bleak in the shade of despair, the lingering emptiness embracing everything in a shroud of numbness.

Hours passed in seconds, time became meaningless, insignificant in this abyss of oblivion. I cried, do you know that? I cried for the first time in thirteen years, I cried until the tears would no longer fall, until my eyes swelled and all I could feel was your lingering touch I would never sense again.

Clutching the soft fabric of the sheets draped across our bed - Our bed… It was truly ours: yours and mine: right? – The old battered and worn clock lay with unmoving hands eerily reminiscent of Kassan's old watch, of a dead and lingering time long since forgotten in purgatory. A time of loss, my loss: the day I became truly alone in every aspect of the word.

Now, more than ever, am I truly aware of my actions to hide that incident too dreadful to face alone, away into a place I'd never see again but the emotions stayed. They lingered, festering amid my undying bereavement. I was young, I was naïve; I never thought the experience would come back to haunt me stronger than ever. And in the heart of my sadness, you stood unmoving between the flickering light and the all-consuming shadows, the cold look adorned so sweetly as the childish innocence of your eyes slowly faded away into the bloody void.

Of all the people, of all the fiends scourging this land, you had to be the one to awaken my once eternally sleeping consciousness and heart. My pain, my sorrow, my undying hatred, it all circles around you, the source of it all, but I can't find the heart in myself to kill you. Maybe, just maybe, you could heal the decaying wounds you once inflicted upon me, and maybe I could heal some of yours.

I made a pact with the devil, I would become evil incarnate, the sin, the all-consuming darkness of hell, just to find you and feel your dark caresses mending the hurt.

A consciousness frozen in the icy remains of a tragedy's sweet remnants.

Chloe… She tried to kill me, she tried to take you away from me, but in the end she was as much a slave to love as you were. As we all were: entirely willing to make the most detrimental sacrifice, to kill in the name of love, solely based upon that very love tearing us apart. By cherishing an impure, sinful, adoration the three of us willingly damned ourselves to a fate entangled in eternal grief for a few moments of blissful euphoria in our dear one's embrace. We are Noir, we are sin, we are the darkest hours of mankind, and it is only fitting that our very love would be no different. A thousand years of consciousness is not enough to fully express the sorrow entwined around my heart, as it has been for both of you? We are left to step forward upon the one path placed before us, the long, dreary, road of darkness. When this road comes to it's end, will it be harmony divine or broken dreams of dying hope?

Walking this trail, I am not alone, together we can find haven in hell.

The image vanishes in a blinding aura of warmth encasing my worn out body, my fears, once bleeding out my soul, mend in this embrace of the heavens. You are before me, smothering me with horridly perverse arms of sin, yet I do not want my breath back. I want this... Beyond anything else, and I'll damn myself to the fires of Hell itself before I let anyone take it away.

"Why does something so sinful feel so right?" You don't say anything nor would I expect you to, your quiet, withdrawn, demeanor surfacing in the moment of insecurity. It's not an unexpected occurrence considering each one of us has created defensive mechanisms from which we flee upon in our darkest hours. Risen from the compulsive need to protect one's self, it is an automatic reaction to pain.

But this pleasure…. This sickeningly sweet adoration of sin manifested burns away the hurt, corroding away the very strings to life and death we all hold, until there's nothing left but a warped darkness. And through this darkness I see your eyes, your shining orbs of unspeakable beauty radiating such passion, and tranquility, I am content enough to die.

Together… Let's indulge our tainted affections.

My mind is numb; it is perverse, horribly twisted and forever mutating in this bleak world of never ending horrors and yet I wouldn't have it any other way. I have no illusions about who I am, what I do, the pain I inflict and the lives I take, it is because of this bottomless hell of sorrow that pleasure becomes so enthralling. The barest of touches wisp me away into a land of nothingness, no sin, no life, nothing save your unbearable caresses, and my own.

Is this Heaven?

No. Something so beautiful, so astonishingly horrid and yet desirable could never be pure in their eyes; we are more alike to Hell than we ever could be to Heaven. We are assassins, we live and die amongst the shadows, we kill and distort the very fabrics of life. No, there is no Heaven, no purity in what we are.

Our sanctuary is darkness, it is pain, for in this we are able to find pleasure and through such means we are capable of unleashing Hell to devour sin. Eventually, we will be devoured as well, yet why am I not afraid? It is human nature, of the most vile and disgustingly revolting truth, that death is not comprehensible. Am I not human because of this? Have I transcended limitation? I find myself caring not, as long as you are there, I will face Hell; I will become Hell, to be with you.

A hand, I know it is yours, I can't see it but oh can I feel it, traces the edges of my skirt, the fabric incessantly elicits a gasp. A jolt of electricity so unbearably pleasant I nearly scream, and I damn myself for my weakness. My desire, slowly talking a hold of this body of mine, flinging away all thought, all need to think one's actions through before committing, until I am acting on impulses alone. Impulses to touch, to feel touched, to here your cries for more, knowing I will be the one to elicit such responses, and to cry your name to the night! Fuck, I can't take this! I need this! More than anything else, more than security, more than contentment, more than my desire to see my parents! It's a craving flooding my veins, my soul, my entire being, damning my pride, I find myself nearly begging for it! Me, Mireille, of one of the most prestigious bloodlines, about to beg for this!

Don't you dare make me do such a thing! I'd sooner die than lower myself to such means, but this sensation! I can feel my body trembling, oh gods I'm losing control!

"Kirika!" My gasp involuntarily leaves my lips before your own invade me. A long, squirming tongue probing my sanctuary, penetrating my self deluded heaven. Looking into your eyes, seeing the raw passion and above all else, desire, as well as knowing it reflected in my own, I do not know who broke first, I would like to think it was you however my inner consciousness says otherwise. We flung ourselves at each other, hands caressing, tongues probing, our bodies writhing in beautiful agony.

Saliva streams down my mouth, tickling the skin as I gaze into your disbelieving eyes, so much desire and need entangled in every caress, every gaze, and every motion. I can feel your limbs shaking in anticipation, craving for the pleasures of flesh, we both need this, and of this I'm sure beyond a shadow of a doubt. It's not a thought, no it could never be so simple, but an epiphany, a revelation that my mind tells me is false yet my heart, what is left of it, does not care. Enjoy this pleasure, even if it is sin, even if it damns you to eternal misery, enjoy it while it lasts, my heart says.

Tasting the warm, near boiling, blood passing between our mouths, courtesy of the rough contact, savoring the metallic flavor drives me further towards the razor sharp edge of the abyss in pleasure. Dangling between the ever-present darkness clashing with the seemingly dying light, one step away from oblivion, one step away from ecstasy. My legs are shuddering, my body is shaking, and my mind is reeling in uncontrolled, unrestrained, delight when your hands fumble with my shirt. My own doing little better, a tint of awkwardness flitters across your velvety cheeks, your mellifluous gasps invoking a vampiric desire within myself. As if driving me further and further into the black abyss of euphoria, words are incoherent, indistinguishable amongst the pants and groans lucidly conveying our bodies' thirst for this.

Embarrassment must be contagious, as my face heats up to intolerable levels when I notice my hands nearly ripping the cloth inhibiting my examination of your wonderfully delectable skin. Fumbling, my fingers tenderly scrape across the frail cloth, frantically itching to dispose you of your concealing clothing. Gods, what have I become? Do I need this, THIS much?

I don't need this, I _crave_ it!

I revel in the sweet caresses as our shirts are swiftly cast aside, taking a moment to burn your utterly beautiful body into memory, not that I could ever forget it even if I wanted to. Your exquisite appearance in the throes of pleasure is more than enough to send me over the edge, never before had I ever imagined, even briefly, that another woman would have this effect on me. But you are not just another woman, you are everything, and nothing; the very thread holding this ripped apart and worn out soul together.

"Do…. Do you know… What you are doing to me?"

Gazing up into your eyes, your tender form pressing down upon mine as your lips curve into a rare smile, "Do you want me to stop?" Placing feathery light kisses of the barest of touches down my neck, how could I not want this? How could anyone not want this?

Shuddering, my hands locked onto the soft fabric of the sheets in a death grip, I manage to gasp, "Gods no…" The overly unadorned ceiling swiftly becomes more appealing when your tongue returns to its undeviating trek across my body.

"Thought so…" Again, that smile full of delightful mischievousness flitters across your face as your eyes glow in amusement. Kirika, what the devil have you become? I am but a book laid upon the mantle for you to read at wish yet I know near nothing about you, time and again my observations are dashed to pieces under your perceiving eyes.

Who are you, Kirika?

Fixating on this one inoperable necessity, I will expose you and find the truth. I will find the true 'you' Kirika for you have already uncovered the true 'me'. I will find you amid the all-consuming darkness of your loneliness, and together we shall not die alone. No, we shall not be alone anymore.

"Kirika," nearly screaming your name aloud as your mouth plays with my breasts, the gentle, yet easily distinguished in underlined passion, caresses, teasing my screaming body, igniting a blazing sensation of need.

"Oh, Kirika!" Your hand fondling some unreachable yet incontestably susceptible to pleasure part of me, I am reduced to a feeble state of instinctively whispering your name in fervent delight. Your strokes linger as the fiery ache increases steadily higher and higher, closer and closer to the razor edge of release as your hand travels down parting my labia with the utmost of enthusiasm.

"Ugh…. Since... when have you been… so forward?" I gasp in-between my own pants and groans. What do you see in me now, Kirika? Do you see desire; do you see weakness, pain, or sorrow? Slowly, ever so slowly, you have changed, but why? What has become of the small, shy, unconfident girl I've come to acknowledge?

"You… The answer is you." Jerking my vision down to you, staring hungrily, perched atop my breasts; the dark light reflecting in your eyes pierces my soul as your fingers continue to pierce my body. A bead of sweat trickles down my incessantly squirming body, arching my back to bring me closer… Closer to you, to your delightfully penetrating fingers, closer to the edge, closer to release…

How long since we began? It's been years; it's been eternity feeling this…. Slowly pulled further and further into pleasure, time is distorted in my blearing vision. Only your face, a small grin plastered across it, fluids dripping down your lips in streams, is before me. Nothing else. Nothing more. Only you, and this sickening pleasure.

"Kirika, can you…." Read my mind? I finish in thoughts.

To hell with this, I'm not going to be dominated by some… child. I'm not going to let you off easy; I'm not going to let you get away with showing me the truth. Despite not having found my own release, I manage to regain some semblance of control over my body's desires, at least for the time being.

As much as my body craves you, I find the willpower to control myself, and the need to exact revenge. You made me cry out, you made me a slave to desire; I shall exact the same on you.

I wonder, how will you react? I never thought you'd be the type of person to instigate such a situation, let alone hold the knowledge of what we are doing, what we are preparing ourselves to do. Clearly I was wrong, you're not a naïve child any longer. I've seen many sides of you thus far, you were always so distant and unconfident, but that's a far cry to the person you are now. What was the cause to your changes?

Was it the Soldats?

Was it our profession?

Was it… Me?

I will find you, Kirika: I will find you.

Before you can act, I lock my legs tightly together around your midsection, in the process looking for any emotion to surface across your face, there is none. My arms circle your neck and with a quick twist of my hips our positions are reversed. Now I am on top, now I am in control, and now you are my plaything.

Still you refrain from showing any visible reaction other than rolling your eyes, well, my Kirika, I will coax it out of you. "Well?" you question with a suggestive smile.

"Kirika," I murmur, slowly disposing you of your remaining garments, "I was going to show… a little…. Restraint," now having fully unclothed you, "but you know what?"

"No. What is that, Mireyu?" Enunciating my name slowly, teasingly, addressing each syllable with an underlined emphasis that sends shivers down my body.

"You don't deserve that luxury." Firmly pressing your shoulders deep into the comforts of the sheets to accentuate my point. "It wouldn't be fair of me," I say, while my hands take hold of your arms, securing them tightly in place above your head, "If I simply ignored your own needs. And by the look of it, you do have soo many needs at the moment."

I revel in the brief gasp you emit upon being overpowered; it's so delectable. Withdrawing my right hand from above you, while my left keeps your arms tightly locked, you squirm as I place feathery light touches down your hips and onto the soft erogenous flesh of your inner thigh.

"Mir… Mireyu!" You gasp, arching your back to press your chest firmly against mine, squishing our breasts tightly together. Oh! The feeling is new, having long since discarded our clothing. I begin stroking the outer edges of what I assume is your labia, in all honesty I'm too focused on your quivering lips, shuddering, and occasionally releasing a soft high-pitch gasp, to understand what part of you I am touching.

"...Please" you question, or is it a statement?

"Please what, Kirika? What do you want me to do?" You stifle a gasp, shuddering when my hand strokes your supple, drenched flesh. "Should I stop this?" Slipping a finger into your tender vagina, your skin grips me tightly trembling, your muscles contracting as you squirm and writhe. "Do you want me to stop?" I repeat again, delightfully watching as you fumble for words.

"N…NO," gasping loudly, "don't stop, Mireyu! Don't stop!" Ah, such words, such beauty I see in your succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh, succumbing to me, and my will. You are mine, Kirika, now let me hear you scream, let me hear you cry, and beg!

You release a long drawn out sigh of contentment as I slip another finger into you while my other hand trails to cup your chin willing you to look into my eyes. "Look into my eyes, Kirika, look into my eyes as you scream, as your body is overcome by pleasure. Let me see your ecstasy, let me see your bliss." Such delight I feel as your body quivers in response to my fingers pinching your delicate skin, none to gentle.

"Oh, Mireyu!" The way you utter my name, my own body is beginning to shiver as you call out again and again and again. I will never grow tired of this, of your eyes blind in passion, your body feeble with desire, a mere slave to my horridly intoxicating touch. This is how it should be, Kirika, I will not shy away from this any longer. You are mine: all mine.

Your moans become louder as faster and faster I forcibly drag you to the edge of release, and leave you to linger, dangling over the sides in the black abyss of your own torture. "You are so wet, Kirika, can you feel your yourself throbbing around my fingers? Can you feel your own fluids gushing out?" I remove my fingers, earning a disapproving growl from you, only to push them into your mouth, "Taste yourself now, do you like it?"

By now you're to drunk on pleasure to truly give a damn what I do to you anymore, as long as it brings you closer to release. You nod your head vigorously, silently eager for me to return to my own task, something I'm more than willing to do. Kirika, if you think you can remain silent, well; you've got another thing coming!

You've closed your eyes now, trying desperately to remain in control of the sensations raping your body. Removing my hand from holdings yours tightly in place above your head, I burn your supple flesh into memory. Trailing over every piece of you, ever crevice, every curve, until I come to your thighs where I spread your legs wide open exposing your beautiful slit for the world to see. A small mound of black pubic hair hovers above your aching vagina, nearly flooding in fluids.

You murmur a brief groan of surprise before it turns into one of ecstasy when my tongue finds it's home amid your delectable folds. I was eager to taste you, to penetrate your virginal cavity with my tongue but I was not prepared for how truly addicting it is. For how much I'd continue to crave you, I think I've found some semblance of heaven down here between your legs as they tightly hold my head in place, pushing me deeper and deeper into you. My tongue darts further into you, slithering all around supple flesh while my fingers pinch your clitoris none too gently.

I can feel my own need slowly rising with your pants and spasms rapidly increasing, I attack you with renewed fervor and delight. Now you're slowly grinding your crotch into my mouth as my hands struggle to keep your hips in place. Who would have thought you, a girl of the most contradicting nature, once shy and silent would now be reduced to a bundle of nerves incessantly whimpering my name.

The harsh, yet blatantly erotic, rocking of your hips increases steadily until I can almost feel you falling into the chasm of euphoria, drowning in bliss. Your succumbing to the passion, to my domination over your body, to my possessive caresses and bites, drives me further to bring you to the black gates of pleasure. Your legs suddenly spasm, wrapping tightly around the back of my head to pull me deeper into you as I issue a cry of surprise before your own voice overtakes my own. Someone must have heard that, but I care not, should they became an annoyance, well that can easily be remedied. Permanently.

And yet, my own need is only fueled to new heights as my lips and tongue are crushed into your aching center, ejaculating your fluids in a steady flow. I never thought, even for a second, that I would be one to enjoy this, to find pleasure in a sickeningly humiliating act and yet your essence covering my once pure skin has became a testament to my resolve. To my feelings. To the side of me only you are permitted to see.

The legs so entwined around my skull slacken, trembling in weakness and fulfillment as I remove myself from our entangled mess of limbs. Oh how horrid your body is, so strong for someone so small, now glistening in the after affects of our strenuous activity: I've never seen something so beautiful, so utterly appealing in my entire life. Sweat is rolling off your form as your small but petite breasts lightly bounce in rhythm with your erratic breathing, I reach out my hand to grasp your chin and stare into your eyes clouded with passion.

"Well?" I smirk lightly, suggestively. Still not recovered, your cheeks turn a light tint of scarlet before looking away in embarrassment, your shy demeanor once again resurfacing. "Oh, you're not going to say anything? What happened to that bold, assertive woman before me just minutes ago? Or were you just so sex-starved that you became a slave to your own body?"

"Mireille, that's not…."

"God damnit, Kirika! You just won't quit it, will you?" I snarl into your face, "Be real with me for just once, I'm sick and tired of your little games."

"…. I don't understand."

Narrowing my eyes in anger, "But you do, Kirika, somewhere on an unconscious level you are far more aware of your own actions than you know. You hide behind a façade of obliviousness like a coward!"

"Do you hate me, Mireille?" You ask, with hopeful eyes?

I laugh softly, "You should already know the answer to that if my actions and words to you reflect my feelings."

"Yes, I hate you with every fiber of my body. I hate you for what you have taken away from me, for all the pain your actions caused to me, but I hate you even more for not trusting me enough to see the real you! The woman beneath all that shit you erect between yourself and the world, the woman I've managed to capture a brief glimpse of, the woman who has stolen and ripped out my heart." And the woman I'd give my life to save, I finish in thoughts.

For the first time, I see anger swirling in the bottomless depths of your eyes. "Do you know what it's like to live your life searching for death? Knowing the only way to accomplish your dreams is to die? I have sinned, I have murdered, I have ruined the lives of everyone around me, how much more must I sin? How much more must I destroy?"

"You truly are a fool. Wallowing in self pity, how disgusting." I sneer. A hard force impacts my chest, hurling me to my back as a low growl emits from you throat. Oh how feisty you've become, Kirika.

"Have you seen Hell, Mireille? Have you been consumed by the dark infernos of sorrow and despair? " You scream, silent tears dripping down velvety cheeks to scatter across the bed.

I take a moment to compose myself, speaking in a soft, knowing manner. "I know pain, I know sadness, I know despair just as well as you do but you don't see me crying about it. Do you truly not understand? I don't love you because you are sinless, I don't love you for your purity, nor any other superficial quality. I love you because despite your horrendous past, you've managed to maintain some semblance of sanity, despite everything that has been taken away from you; you still have the heart to carry on, unlike me."

"Why me? Of all the people, why do you choose me, Mireille? I killed your parents, I have taken everything away from you; how can you just ignore that?"

"I thought I had already made that clear, I hate you for what you did however I refuse to let that.. let my weakness… affect my relationship with you. I will not, and cannot, ever forgive what you did however you have somehow managed to slip into the dark void of my heart. Before I knew it, you had become a lifeline, an anchor to my fleeting sanity." The once cold look in your eyes slowly vanishes, "I will not hold your past against you, but you need to be able to move on as well." I speak, staring off through the window to the black night outside where the moon glows brightly in a sea of darkness. A darkness that is no longer so daunting but one that offers a small lingering air of tranquility.

A long soft sigh escapes my lips.

Is that what I have wanted to say all along, but never had neither the heart nor the courage to do so?

Is this what I have desired, no needed, to fill the rift within myself?

How is it, in just a few minutes, in just a few hours, you have managed to change who I am? Where is my anger, where is my fierce independence I once so coldly adorned? I can feel it, the sudden illuminating light purifying my more sinister morals, my more ruthless behaviors as if my personality is being rewritten.

Is this what love is?

Is this what sacrifice is?

Somehow.. just somehow, a small burden is lifted from my chest, the corroded chains weaved around my heart slowly dissipating, the mutated and festering wounds of my soul fade away. I have seen Hell; I have seen the horrors and atrocities of our world, the evil flowing through our veins, our intrinsic nature for destruction and death. But now the veil wrapped around my eyes has been lifted, and for the first time I can look to this life and laugh. A laugh of a survivor, of someone who's lived through oblivion and once again returned to paradise.

That's not to say my pain never existed, that suddenly everything is at peace, for I still feel the shadows, still aware of our sin, and the sin we will commit in the future but no longer does it govern my being.

No longer am I chained.

No longer will I drown in this sea of emotions.

No longer will I deny myself from what I truly crave, I resolve looking upon your beautiful form perched atop me.

"Mireille, I… I never thought I could feel this way, about anyone. Before I met you, I was afraid, very afraid… There were parts of me I didn't understand, parts of me that could kill, parts of me that could rape, and move on like nothing happened. I was so close to breaking when I met you, yet you changed that.. I watched as your cold and bitter attitude slowly adopted a more sensual undertone, and I began to hope despite my lingering intrinsic self within screaming for me not to."

Grasping my hand against your warm chest, you smile as I can feel your heart beat slowly increasing. This smile, this purity in the face of darkness, it is truly you. The you, you have hidden away, choosing me as the one person to see your true self.

Your true smile.

"For so long I have forgotten about this… about who I truly am," whispering into my ear, your soft voice a melody. "But your words, your love you have given me, despite everything I have done to you, opened that door I once locked away."

Your slips softly caress me own, in a slow sensual kiss unlike the other ones we have shared. Before, the lust, the desire, the craving for our bodies' thirst for pleasure controlled our movements. But this, _this_ is so soft, so light, I daresay it is peaceful. I daresay I have fallen in love.

Too lost in my own thoughts, I don't notice your arm entwined around my waste until my cheeks are cradled against your breasts, "I know you hold a lot of suffering inside you, Mireille." When you speak it's quiet, "I know you don't want to show it to anyone." Why do I suddenly fear your words? Why is my body shaking, why is my throat dry as I am unable to speak? "But know this… Never, never again will you be alone."

Your arms tighten as if to envelope me entirely. "Never again will you have to fear," trembling now, "showing emotions." My eyes begin to water, "Just let it out, Mireille, let yourself be weak, let your emotions surface, let yourself feel everything you've repressed, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

Tears fall from my cheeks but you quickly wipe them away, and with every scream I emit, every sob I cry, you hold on tightly.

Never letting go.

A/N

I know parts of that were hard to understand, due to my own writing style I tend to write more abstract than clear-cut. What I wanted to accomplish was to explore Mireille's feelings, her struggle to identify what those feelings exactly are, and to accept them. I love Mireille / Kirika fluff, but sometimes I question how she forgives Kirika so easily for what she did. So in this, she never forgives her but that doesn't affect her feelings for the girl.

Before I get flamed, I'll explain it a bit more. Mireille is sitting by the sleeping form of Kirika, thinking over everything they went through. She is unsure of her feelings for the girl, her hate is clashing with whatever emotions of adoration she is experiencing. She can never forgive Kirika for her parent's murder, however she learns to live with it. They are Noir, they are the very darkness itself, she acknowledges that, and knows they will never change. I wanted to show how everything they are, is in fact, sin. And their love for another is sinful. Kirika is muttering Mireille's name in her sleep, prompting more extreme emotions from Mireille. When she wakes up, and tries to apologize, it invokes a severe surge of emotions for the woman, hence her anger. It is in this moment, she realizes her love, and admits her weakness, and in doing so, triggers more memories. Eventually she comes to the realization that, whatever is in store for them later on, pain, pleasure, sorrow, they can deal with it as long as they are together.

On a side note, I find in quite amusing that they are 'partners' in more sense than one. Homosexual couples offer refer to each other as 'partners', I don't know if this is an implication to their sexual preferences, or merely just a tease, but I tend to go with this anime as implied Yuri.

I may / may not, continue this, depending on how I, myself, feel about it, as well as if anyone demands me to continue it. If I do continue, I _will_ further developer Kirika's personality because I know I only hinted at it here as well as creating an actual plot with action/adventure/tragedy themes.

**READ THIS**: "IF" if you choose to review, I ask that you comment on why you liked it or why you did not. A line, or even just a few words, on how I can improve. That's my goal in writing, to continue to improve my ability and challenge myself. I **WILL **respond to all reviews and PM's regarding this fiction, and answer any questions / requests. Should you feel the need to flame, please do so in reasonable and justified way that reflects on your age and intelligence.

Thanks for reading,

Ja ne….


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As usual I do not own Noir, nor any of the characters. Characters I do own I will specifically state so.

AN: Due to lack of something better to do, as well as some of my own ideas incessantly nagging me, I have decided to continue this. Honestly, I don't know exactly where I am taking this, but I do have a fairly good idea. As such the plot is not necessarily set in stone (as of now).

NOTE: Currently I DO NOT HAVE A BETA! If you are interested please email or pm me, stating why you wish to be a BETA for me and if you've had any experience.

About reviews? As always if you're going to say something really short IE: "I loved it!" or, "I hate it" please don't review in the first place. I am looking more for a critique of my work so I can improve. If you don't wish to do so, that's perfectly fine with me. If you do, I am eternally grateful. Regardless it will NOT effect how often I update and if I do so in the first place.

Anyways, on with the story…

Temptress of the Night

Chapter 2: Into the Abyss

Usually when someone awakes to another's presence beside them, they are either relieved or horrified, inevitably feeling a small sense of comfort in the fact that they are not alone. For loneliness itself is but the most horrid of creations that we as human beings have ever brought forth into life, it drives even the most formidable of souls over the abyss and into madness. Like a slow-acting poison, it floods the veins igniting a perpetually increasing corruption. It doesn't kill fast, it doesn't even destroy; it swallows you alive; leaving you to suffer eternally in the void.

Much like my feelings for you.

Beside me lays the sleeping form of Kirika in all her naked glory, basking in the blissful euphoria of oblivion. Oh how I wish to vomit! For someone so beautiful she represents everything I detest, everything I once wished to obtain, and everything I now wish to destroy. And yet somehow she is something I could never live without. She is my poison; she is my destroyer, the epitome of everything I no longer possess.

"Kirika… Fuck you." The words leave my lips, a soft whimper compared to my usually frigid tone I saved specifically for this person before me. I hated her. I wanted to kill her. And now I love her, oh how thin the line between love and hate has become amongst these emotions.

Is it truly possible to love someone without feeling some depth of hate?

To be with her, no.. to love her will mean my demise. It is inevitable. In our line of work, as assassins, as creatures of the night, love is not something we can afford. Through this warmth, this semblance of heaven, the senses will be dulled, skill slowly slipping away giving way to attachment; to weakness. Yes to love means to eventually suffer.

I guess I've already accepted that. Otherwise she'd no longer be able to draw breath. Still, my attachment for her, for you, is something I would do anything to preserve.

Anything.

It's that very fact that unnerves me so. It's that very fact that causes my limbs to shake in fear; something that you brought into my life. You brought me fear. You brought me hatred. You brought me despair. With every step into my heart you took, another bridge shattered and crumbled away, the pieces falling into the black abyss of my emotions. Another support system burned away in the fiery inferno of your wake, as you stepped inside me to cradle my heart against your own, and then you squeezed. Inwardly convulsing, the pain returned but I was no longer alone.

And for that I love you.

There is something about it that encases my heart in a sheathe of ice, lacking all the warmth of life and yet sustaining an invisible near fragile-like appearance in the darkness. Only for you will my heart melt. And for the rest of the world…. For the rest of the world my heart will remain frigid in hatred.

A tender hand creeps around my waist, abruptly breaking me out of my thoughts, pulling my body down back into the soft confines of our bed. Hazel eyes blink back at me, as if piercing into my soul, all of my darkest secrets divulged in but one moment of eye contact. Then your lips curve into a soft smile. "Good morning, Mireyu."

"There's nothing good about it," I attempt to snarl back into your face, catching myself before the anger can take a hold of my actions. In all honesty I should be _livid_ that this girl, now a matured woman, has exposed the darkest, most vile, aspects of my being for the world to see. But I can hardly find the anger inside myself any more. Oh there are still parts there, mind you, but the icy near blade-like texture of the feelings has dulled into a more enduring nature.

Sighing, I catch my breath. "Don't you remember what today is?" Upon seeing your blank stare the answer is apparent, "Do you truly try and piss me off, or is it merely just a side affect from your callous nature?"

"Never mind… Today we meet the survivors of Les Soldats, where we will attempt to come to a peaceful compromise… if that is indeed possible." I smirk, cruelly. Indeed there was little hope of any such thing occurring, and the truth was, I really didn't care. Might as well kill everyone and anyone that knows of our existent, for they are all unnecessary threats.

"Should we bring…"

"No. Leave them here. Really there is no need for such things amongst a group of people that would sooner kill us than draw another breath."

"Of course bring them, you fucking idiot." The words leave me lips before I can register what I was thinking. "We need to be prepared for anything, so yes bring _them_ as well." Truly this woman needs to get back into her element of death and destruction soon, for that is what we leave in our wake of misery. Nonetheless, my heart still wretches as I remember the other side of _her_, and although I would never voice it, I am glad she is not.

Seeing her tender form draped beautifully amongst the silken sheets, a warm tingle ignites my veins on fire, before I crush it back. Now is not the time for such emotions.

Later.

Maybe Later.

Taking a hold of your shoulder I give a light push, grinning as you topple off the bed, "We do need to hurry." And it is true, there is a need to hurry… well actually it's more of a desire to. For as long as I could remember these… spineless vermin… have plagued my existence, sending their cannon fodder off to their deaths by my own hand. I mean honestly, after the first hundred don't come back, you'd think they'd learn?

But today… today we meet people behind the masks, those unfortunate bastards pulling the strings of everything in Les Soldats.

And today... Today I get to watch them draw their last breath! Sending them off to meet Shinigami, the path down into the dark infernos of Hell already paved by their minions, and now they will be the last.

"That's not fair, Mireyu," you whine pitifully, a look of amusement flittering across your velvety cheeks. "I thought we'd already established who the dominant one was in our relationship?" You whisper alluringly, a glint of mischievousness flickering in your eyes as you lean forward. "Oh come now, you were anything _but_ quiet last night."

"Fuck you," I snarl back, unwilling to look into your eyes. Damn this girl, damn her to the fires of hell! As if changing in front of her was unsettling enough, the wondering eyes dissecting my body send cold shivers through my limbs but I'd sooner die than give her any satisfaction. "Well I'm afraid there's nothing to say… not after your pitiful performance anyways. I know how sensitive the dominant one's can get when they fail to please."

Inwardly I cringe, anger flourishing inside. Fucking girl! I retract my own walls just enough for her to glimpse what is inside, only for this? And that incessantly knowing smile of hers, why does it unnerve me so? She's a far cry to he naïve, pitiful lump of flesh she once was, now sporting some vicious fangs of her own. Baring them towards me, clearly amused at my reactions no doubt. "Well maybe I was a little too gentle with you," you speak aloud, never breaking eye contact as if peering into my very soul, "Perhaps tonight I'll bring out the whips and chains?"

And then I do see red.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shrieked, "I knew you had hid parts of yourself, but to change this much? And in one night?" Venom laced in my words, "What is there I don't know, what else are you hiding from me?" I scream, glaring to your now perplexed form. My previous thoughts seem to be incorrect, I am not going to Hell; I am _in_ Hell… How is it possible for one person to change so suddenly? I almost prefer the cold, murderous part of you to this…. Almost. The reclusive part of myself hidden away pushes me back into suppression, back into the confines of my own mind. Outwardly I bare a look of cold indifference, one laced with traces of fury, but inside there's hatred. Convulsing, and pulsing, it surges throughout and I can feel it taking over once again. I have always found my own observations of my surroundings to be startlingly accurate, and it is upon these attributes that my deadliness arose, for they were never wrong…..

Never wrong. Until now.

You who has changed so much, who has thrown and tossed away every judgment I unconsciously placed upon you, is once again tearing asunder my perceptions. And once again the pain is coming back, in waves of horrific anguish it washes over, a cold and frigid sorrow shaking my very bones. Burning my soul to the core, and flooding my veins in the agony of utter confusion and mistrust. Again and again it surges, battering against my solid defenses, returning stronger than ever. I want to scream, I want to cry, but where is my voice? Where are my thoughts? This agony stripping me of my flesh, ripping apart my heart into scattered pieces, allowing time for it to mend only once again to shatter.

Where is my light?

Oh gods, where is the pleasure?

"Come now, Miri, I was only kidding…" you whisper alluringly, breathing hotly against my neck. "But as you said, now is not the time for such…. Trivial… matters." Walking away to secure the tight bindings across your chest, "For now we shall destroy the last bonds that secure us to this pitiful world." I finish, all the while taking inventory of our weapons.

"Hmm, and then what?"

"Does it even matter?" I ask. "We are, and always will be, killers. There is no justification for doing what we do, because it is through justifying our sins that humanity is lost forever."

"We could always stop, you know?"

"Can we? Can a heroine addict just give up the needle on a mere whim?" My voice bristling with painful realization, "We are the same. We can not deny that."

"But neither do we have to accept it!" Looking up into my eyes as if to embrace me, " I am not saying we should do anything, but…. What we decide to do now, I want it to be without regrets. I am tired of living through the sins of my past"

"Agreed..."

Three men. Only three men. Do they take us for fools? Three measly men staring intently, perhaps even smugly, against the divine wrath of Noir. Oh how they must wish to die, and we will happily oblige in their masochistic ways, all to eagerly.

Pitiful really. "No," you speak as if reading my mind. "They are not alone." No sooner had you sensed it than a wicked chill ripped through my body, a cold blade pressed tightly against my bare neck as if to part the skin. It was not the feeling of the blade that scared me so, no, but the malice behind it. And without turning, without even knowing the identity of my attacker, I knew this person _ached _to spill my blood. To taste it.

"Remove that little dagger, before I remove that body of yours from the world of the living," my partner hisses. And quickly enough, the blade is pulled back by the delicate hands of a goddess, or so she appears to be. It's that very fact, more so than her ability to remain undetected by both of our senses, that displays her blatant ruthlessness, and above all else, danger. For evil is the most frightening when it masquerades under the ploy of innocence. Or in this case, beauty.

You have chosen your weapon as dangerous as ever, Les Soldats.

"Really now," she whisperings lovingly, "You're a feisty little one." The dagger, I can now see, is in actuality a Wakizashi, stylized in the infrequent designs distinguished as the lost era, it takes no genius to know it's truly one of a kind. Or maybe not, I correct myself upon seeing an identical copy by her other side.

"Oh you like these, do you?" The woman grins "well they like you too hun," before one of the men cut her off. A brutish, ugly creature, one whom should have no place standing amongst the beauty of a goddess. "Seras do act like a pet and stay quiet." Swiftly she bows down, long crimson hair cascading over her shoulders, and although the men cannot see it, a dark look of fury adorns her angelic face.

"As you wish."

"Now that that nuisance has been taken care of, we can get down to business." The man in the middle speaks with, strangely enough, an air of caution. No not caution, there is no fear in his words nor his stance, but with an underlying sense of control. Keeping his emotions in check, something truly extraordinary for any human to accomplish in this age of madness, he walked forward. "You who are Noir, you who are sin, the black hands of divine wrath, what are your intentions?"

I sneer, "If you are here to ask us that, then are you not afraid?" The two men by his side fidget, whether in anger or fear, it is unknown. And yet it has become apparent enough in their stiff body movements, with the nervous shifting, and their eyes darting around for the faintest of movements, that we are viewed as a threat after all. "If we were truly no threat at all, I'd imagine you'd have had us killed already. So why is it we are still drawing breath?"

Still maintaining his façade of calmness, "You misunderstand. Your position as Noir no longer concerns us, however yours skills do." He smiled, however it held no malice or ill intent, unlike his subordinates. Truly, he is a worthy leader, I grudgingly admit, and judging by his demeanor he is no fighter. And yet he still finds the audacity to face us!

"You wish us to train replacements?" Kirika questions, speaking for the first time and drawing the attention towards her. Ignoring the glares sent her way; she returns a look of cold indifference. I smirk. A cold-hearted bitch to the end, indeed.

"Smart one you are, Kirika." He speaks, blue eyes blazing in amusement, "If I remember correctly you are more than proficient in all manner of weaponry. So yes, your skills will be invaluable to us."

"Kashin," the woman suddenly speaks, "Be careful of that one," her slender fingers pointing towards Kirika, "she is far more dangerous than you believe." The woman called Seras states before turning her attention to my partner. "And you… that would not be a wise decision." Much to the bewilderment of everyone, including myself. "They have come prepared, it is the only reason weapons have not been drawn yet. You have been lured into their trap."

"Oh, you say this as if you willingly walked into," I smirk, my body aching to leap into action, "Or is it something else?" Not letting down my façade while inwardly craving to end this bitch's life, I fight back the urge. It's just something in her black eyes that unnerve me so, a dark, underlying, sense of viciousness, I haven't felt since her: since the Intercoble (spelling?). A wolf walking amongst the sheep as one of their own. Truly the most dangerous type of killers, one that is perfectly capable of stalking their prey for days, for weeks, for even years. Letting the prey slip into a self-absorbed state of security, before plunging wicked fangs through the neck. "They truly do have you on your hands and knees, hmm?" I question, cruelly smirking at the underlined meaning.

"Oh didn't you know? By reducing the prey into a self induced state of safety, it becomes so much more delicious when you stab it in the back," Seras grins, a hand playing with the handle of her weapons, tauntingly.

This woman has to die!

"Woman know your place!" the brute of a man growls, turning his head abruptly, foolishly meeting eye contact with the woman.

Perfect.

Reacting with years of perfected motion, my hand rips the concealed weapon out of the depths of my garments, bringing forth a tool of death and destruction. A tool to shed blood. With a horribly loud eruption, the temporary peace shattered as I stared down the sightlines into the woman's heart, muscles tensed as the kickback tore through my body.

Another explosion tore through the air, out of the corner of my eyes the brutish man fell, a torrent of blood, guts and bone erupting into the air. Another bang, and his head lolled to the site, a large gaping wound in his neck, more akin to a tear than a hole.

Squinting at the woman, fury and excitement coursing throughout me, I pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. In frenzied delight, I nearly squirmed, oh how pleasurable it was, I fought back the urge to lick my lips. The orgasmic high became nostalgic, as I emptied bullet after bullet into her offending image. Anticipating the slugs tearing asunder her frail form, I wanted to cry out my superiority, but it was not to be. With God-like precision and speed her body twisted around in dance-like movements, mocking me, the bullets flying harmlessly past her. For a second I saw a stain amongst her shrouds, and then there was pain.

In a flash she was upon me, Wakizashi's drawn cutting through the air in a dance of the heavens. Flowing through the vibrant motions, tracking the blades became impossible as they weaved majestically around in a whirlwind of death, using her circular momentum she brought them down in a diagonal downward slash into my neck. Pivoting my feet, I kept my right arm raised blocking the atrocious blade against the steel of my gun. My bones seem to crumble against the brutish force, pushing me roughly to the side.

Fuck!

The second blade passes harmlessly by, drifting mere millimeters above my head. Reversing her grip, Seras skillfully turns the point downward in a circular arc, losing none of her frightening momentum. With this speed, I know all it takes is a fraction of a second, and then I will die. This woman, this _devil_ posses the speed of the gods!

Pushing myself into a crouch position, knees bent I summon all the strength inside, and repressing the searing pain of my right arm, I lurch upward inside her guard. With a hideous crack my forehead smashes into hers, leaving both of us dazed and crashing into the ground in a heap on top of each other.

With my body on top, it should be easy enough to overpower her. Using my position to its advantage I drop an elbow into her midriff, allowing gravity to take its toll, and forcibly removing the air from her lungs. A satisfying crack issued, muffled but grunts of pain. With a quick movement of my legs, I pinned hers tightly together, grinning. "You know," she gasps, "Deceit is the quickest way to kill your enemy." Stifling the gasp rising in the back of my throat, I gaze in amazement upon her seemingly subdued position before a hot; searing pain erupted in my side.

I screamed.

In all my life, never before I had felt this…. This dirtied, this violated. A searing hot blade mangled my flesh before my eyes, spewing forth chunks of my flesh. Tendons and muscles severed and torn to pieces, my heart thundered with pressure. In one movement, one mistake, my body lay crippled.

Contracted in anguish; I managed to briefly catch a glimpse of silver where my blood blossomed in the torn rags of my cloths.

My blood!

A tremor shook my body.

Breathing heavily, I fell backwards onto the hard concrete of the streets, choking in what I assume to be blood leaking out of my mouth. Dripping down steadily. How could this happen? How could this fucking happen? I wanted to scream. To lose my cold, calculating exterior, and cry my frustration to the world. This whore, this filthy little pet of the Soldats, why won't she die?

"Why won't you fucking die?" I rasp out, blood mingling in saliva.

"I would be saying the same thing to you in different circumstances," Seras retorts, brutally removing the weapon from inside my flesh, and I screamed again despite all my efforts to repress the horrid feelings. I didn't want to.. no I just couldn't… show weakness to this gross imitation before me, but in a sudden burst of anguish the pain overrode my conviction. Shattering my will with ease. "My my, not much of a pain tolerance."

"Go to hell you filthy pet of whores." Expressing a bit of joy, despite my evident state of weakness, in seeing her fidget. I guess she is not truly devoid of all emotions. No, she's repressing them like me. God that felt good to say. To bite back, if not physically, then emotionally, oh how I wished to hurt her! To grasp her heart in my hand, to see horror wash over that calm façade, and show her the true meaning of pain and suffering. Oh how I could make her suffer. No one knows pain like I do, no one knows suffering like I do. How entwined in hope, it can break and sever far stronger than any lingering physical sensations. To those who have suffered, have had hope and love shatter in the face of despair, it becomes all too easy to inflict the very pain on those before you. It becomes… almost natural. And in some sick, morbid way, it brings you pleasure.

Stepping forward the crimson haired beauty gave a swift flick of her wrists, dispelling the majestic blades of the blood tarnishing them as it sprayed sloppily against the grass and stone. With each step she took, it reminded me of how Kirika did the same, always moving forward. But this, this fear, and dread was nothing like the girl I wished to see one last time. Seras was more akin to me, I could feel it, no it was apparent enough for the both of us to understand, some nonsensical bond entwined us together in a labyrinth of darkness. Our similarities, our perverse nature to revel in destruction and madness, sweeping the land off all purity only to blanket it in shrouds of hate and suffering, our intrinsic nature to see the worst in mankind. Just one look into her eyes and I could see the hate, it became tangible. I could reach out and grasp it. Washing the land over in a tidal surge of emotions.

And through this oblivion she walks hand in hand with, a flash of the horror to come appeared inside. Pyres of madness erected by the stains of humanity. Fuck! This woman scares me. Her similarities to myself scare me.

Is this the end? After everything I've done, everything I haven't accomplished yet, this is how it ends. At the blade of Les Soldats. How disgusting. A sense of fury began building inside me, fury laced with something I'd never felt before. The fiery ages of anguish began spreading, laced together in a scorn for everything alive. This woman, this fool, she would not be the one to kill me.

No, no one else would hold that pleasure.

No one else but myself.

As if sensing my smile, the woman scoffed. And with one last feeling of regret, I murmur "I'm sorry." Before unleashing the gates of oblivion that would consume us both.

Kirika was anything but happy. Leaping into the air, she narrowly dodges the seemingly invisible weapons her opponent wielded in a frighteningly efficient manner. It wasn't the girl's skill that created the sliver of doubt inside her: it was her appearance. Kirika had been seconds away from claiming the life of the beautiful devil Mireyu was fighting, sighting down her barrel with unrivaled precision to where her target's head lingered steadily in the crosshairs. All she had to do was pull the trigger one last centimeter, then everything went to hell.

Inwardly she berated herself. She should have known from the beginning! These were anything but normal predators: they were angels of the night, bringing their barely restrained wrath down upon whatever was deemed necessary. Kirika suppressed a shudder, feeling the unrepressed killer intent the child before her emitted in a frighteningly large quantity. It surpassed the urge to kill, the desire to destroy and inflict pain, no this; this was the fury of a god!

Before she could pull that one last centimeter, this girl had appeared. Clothed in a dark, black, with crisscrossing crimson patterns, Hakama the body beneath it nothing more than a schoolgirl. Even so, despite the youngish appearance, Kirika understood not to underestimate any enemy. It is through underestimating that death truly arrives quickly swallowing everything in its massive jaws, mercilessly encased in darkness for all eternity. But the eyes! Lifeless pearled orbs reflecting nothing. No light, darkness, utterly devoid of all emotions. Kirika found her weapon wrapped tightly in what appeared to be string but upon closer detail it consisted of abysmally small links attached together by equaling small pins. Not unlike the links of a chainsaw, except much, much smaller. And equally sharper, if the small incisions in the carefully crafted gun were any indication.

Knowing full well the kind of monstrous strength and coordination her opponent possessed, and the clear disadvantage she was currently in, Kirika ducked her knees changing the placement of her gun pointing into the sky. Immediately the chain segments slipped harmlessly off the barrel, with the tension now released they hissed through the air cutting deep into the exposed skin of her shoulder. Wincing at the pain, Kirika knew it was worth it.

With her hand now free, albeit with a now weak shoulder, she quickly clipped two slugs towards the retreating figure. Two fast for her hastened shots, the bullets cracked in the pavement. Cursing to herself, Kirika grabbed the razor sharp links in her hand, barely suppressing a cry as the brutish blades mercilessly cut into her exposed palm. Summoning her remaining strength, she pulled with all her might, simultaneously firing two quick burst shots to where her opponent should appear.

With the links of her Kusari intricately hand carved and flawlessly weighted, controlling the small, but dangerous, weapon became innate. While the links inevitably lead back to a small metal plated mechanism attached to both her wrists, she could increase or decrease the amount let out at will with a mere flick of her hand. So much so the speed of the motion, in coordination with the other natural body maneuvers remained inconspicuous. It became second nature, the weapon a part of her body. In the subtlest of movements, movements no ordinary, or even highly perceptive, person could detect, she could sever entire limbs, methodically tearing apart the body piece by piece. To the normal eye, Kusari remained nothing more than ordinary string, and that's where the danger lies.

Normally this level of cruelty was beyond her, she didn't understand pain, nor emotions. Unlike her partner, she was bred for one purpose only: ending all life threatening her superiors. And despite what many thought of her, she is fully aware of the emotions she doesn't possess, as she does have a personality: one hiding behind the dangerous façade of obliviousness. She smiled. Akane truly enjoyed her work. It wasn't a true smile, of course, one that barely reached her lips, but nonetheless she couldn't deny the small waves of contentment in releasing the innate desires for carnage and bloodshed. For destruction. Yes she would follow her Master's bidding till the end of time, paving the road behind in blood.

So it became surprise ripped through her body, halting all her movements and disrupting her meticulous mindset. Kusari tightened, with little avail she was torn away from the confines of the innocuous place, and placed directly in the crosshairs of Kirika's weapon. She wouldn't miss, Akane new, the girl, woman, bitch before her was highly skilled in the art of deception and murder. Truly worthy of being blessed in the name Noir indeed.

Akane's astonishment surged forth within her body, the suffocating pressure of being this close to someone so enshrouded in darkness, raped her of the capability to move. A part of her, the intrinsic part left over from the dormant and repressed instincts of millenniums, screamed inside. In but a look, a gaze into her eyes, and she knew this person could kill. The capability, the willingness, and above all else the cold indifference so easily conveyed. A frigid wave of terror washed over her body, legs frozen in despair, she gazed into the murderous eyes of her prey. For the first time Akane felt fear.

It was strong, so strong, washing over her body she felt herself plunging downward into a sea of panic, all rationality slipping away, as fear took its hold on the inexperienced girl.

She briefly caught the sight of several brief flashes of light surging forth from the girl's hand, and a massive force slamming into her frail form, before the darkness of her heart swallowed her alive and she fell to the ground unconscious.

Kirika swallowed. It hadn't been the first time she killed, nor would it be the least. Of the little things she did know, in that she was painfully aware of its truth. But those she had killed before had been…. lifeless imitations of men, nothing more than transparent flickers of emotion behind otherwise lifeless eyes. Men tempered by the icy hands of Les Soldats, consciousness despised as it was, cruelly destroyed in such a way to utterly purge the victim of all awareness. All thought but the intrinsic urge to obey.

Obey without question.

Kirika had mercilessly slaughtered these men by the hundreds, holding no lingering thoughts of regret or remorse. These men were already dead, in her opinion. Their bodies merely refused to believe it. And through killing these lifeless reanimations, it may be possible for them to find some part of salvation in death. She continued to kill; her effectiveness and dedication enhanced by the fervent believe in death she was guiding these souls to salvation.

And so she had foolishly believed that was all the deadly art of killing had in store for her. She could accomplish it completely devoid of all emotions, bodily actions and maneuvers heightened to direct precision. Unlike Mirielle, Kirika suffered no illusion in the beginning, even as a child she knew perfectly well what she was doing. The lives she took in but one wave of a blade, in but one pull of a trigger; a life would be erased, living only in memories. Reduced to ashes. Kirika's thoughts traveled to her own partner, and her inexplicable actions and behaviors. Mirielle was an oddity, at times the woman became so very…. Dark in her brooding Kirika thought it would never end. Then she learned that it was simply another part of Mireyu, it wasn't _who_ she was: simply a product of living a desensitized life, one governed by violence.

Not unlike Kirika's own life.

Still, Kirika new violence was somewhat of a necessity. There became a point in life, when evil, when sin, became to strong in it's morbid essence for purity to survive without any corruption. That was how Noir came to life. An organization recognizing the only way to destroy sin was to become sin, and shoulder the taint and corruption selflessly on one's own soul. Kirika and Mirielle were those sacrifices.

And when they would die, and die they shall, they'd find themselves at the mercy of the very darkness once cherished and embraced deep inside their own black hearts.

So it came to be, staring down the silver-edged barrel, to the mangled body before her she felt a stab of unease. The child, for the girl's age was beyond obvious, had been a mirror reflection of the person Kirika used to be. The cold, emotionally distant and heartless, being she was in her youth. Try as she might, the feeling would not go away. Nor would it grow, it simply lingered, festering amid her confused emotions, as if feeding on them.

Inside, she wanted to feel regret. She wanted to feel remorse, she wanted to care…. But it wouldn't come. The blood soaked form before her evoked no sadness, only cold uncaring apathy.

It confused her. Why did she want to care? She did not know this girl before her, nor did she possess any feelings towards the unfortunate youth, why does she feel so uncomfortable gazing in the girl's dying body? Perhaps it was the girl's similarity to her own perverse nature that caused the unease, she hastily dismissed that thought. Her hands were stained in the blood of countless, faceless, bodies; she did not acknowledge them as people. Why should this one be any different? Never before had this happened, but Kirika found herself ashamed of her incapability to care. Replacing the body before her with that of different people she's known through her life, Kirika knew it made no difference. She could kill them all and walk away.

Another stab of guilt mercilessly pierced her heart.

Could she do the same to Mirielle? That thought surged within, crushing any lingering doubts and confusion, as horror took its place. If this had been Mirielle, could she care then? Replacing the body yet again with that of her distant lover's, Kirika nearly choked. She could see the bloodstained enigma sprawled in helplessness, left bare to the world's wicked touch, and she could smell the utter betrayal her flesh seemingly wreaked of.

And still there were no emotions inside.

Kirika nearly sobbed at that. Why? Why couldn't she feel anything?

A blinding light erupted from the shadows, cascading everything into chaos. Bathing in the shimmering glory, the world itself seem to glow, radiating in the aftermath. Chunks of debris ripped apart the ground, shattering the pavement into thousands of jagged pieces, hurtling them through trees and cars alike with massive force. An explosion rocked the ground, blanketing everything in dust and ashes.

Fragments of concrete were thrown through the air, tearing asunder anything unfortunate enough to be in their away, human and inanimate alike. Everything within 50 meters reduced to an apocalyptic state as Mirielle primed the explosives previously set. It was not an action of victory, rather one induced by pure rage and nothing else.

It was act of pure incoherence. There was no hope in surviving, rather one to destroy. Spawned by the unbridled rage years of sadness invoked, Mirielle and Kirika had planted the uniquely made C4 explosives thoroughly in the most obvious of places. Places that, although unnoticed to the untrained eye, they were the perfect places for such objects to be placed. Hence the obviousness. And it was in there, the deceitfulness lay. A smaller, more contained explosive, this one obtained through more…. Vulgar ways was situated in an utterly undesirable area. A foot beneath the ground Kirika and Mirielle stood.

Kirika having focused all the energy her exhausted body could muster into the fight, stood helpless into the on coming blast. Picked up by the massive winds and energy, fragments and particles of debris swirled around in a haze of screams and blood. In the face of the brutal force, she was thrown aside, nothing more than a rag doll, and into a stone pillar. Bones and stone alike cracked and shattered like twigs, as her body lay twisted and sprawled in darkness.

Blind, depth, and exhausted, Kirika felt her body break against the storm of energy. Ligaments mangled beyond repair, bones crushed into jagged particles pierced the skin. Despite the pain, she couldn't find the energy to scream. Instead, a low gargle emitted from her throat, spewing forth a bloody mixture of saliva and flesh. Knowing her breathing was growing steadily labored; she figured at least one of her ribs was broken. It appeared to be a clean break, if she could still breath. No bones had slipped into the tender flesh of her lungs, which meant the swelling would be minimal, and the possibility of infection rare.

If she was treated swiftly.

The possibility, for it was not an entirely accurate prediction, in all honest it was horridly impractical, of receiving medical treatment lingered. And even then, would it truly matter. She would be out of commission for a _long_ time, a time her strong, dangerous body would be reduced to a state of helplessness. Kirika gritted her teeth. If there was one thing she hated above all else it was helplessness. Even a child could dispatch her in such a state…. And yet a child it was who put her in this state to begin with.

She could feel the fibers of her remaining strength slipping away into the cold grasp of death, and knew she would soon follow if something weren't done. But how could she do anything? Several hundred pounds of concrete slabs lay above, entrapping her body in a sealed compartment of death. Pushing down the thought of how she managed to survive, Kirika stared transfixed into the one whole emitting brief flashes of light.

Perhaps she already did die, she mused. Quickly repressing that startling thought, she decided to focus her undivided attention on escaping. Escape from where pillars of stone consumed her life, where dust was sucked into the back of throat, slowly choking her. If only… if only she could see Mirielle…. One last time. It would all be worth it.

Reaching out her… mangled… hand as if to grasp the austere woman, and hold her close: so very close, her fingers only grasped the lingering air as darkness swallowed her alive.

A/N: Well that was interesting to write. My first action scene, and quite honestly, I am still disappointed with myself. I had envisioned a scene of grandeur scale, and got this. But I put an immense amount of effort into it. Whatever. As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and hopefully my next update will not take so long.

As it stands our Hero's (or villains) are in a very tight fix, and knowing my callous nature I may very well kill one of them off. Or both. Or none. As I said before, I have a general idea where I want to take this, but that is open to changes. I'll take the time to state a few things…

If you want another Lemon, I apologize there shall not be one…. There were several reasons why I included the first one. 1: it was necessary for how I want to advance their relationship, and to those of you who can read into little things, you'll probably understand why. This is one possible ending. If I continued with another Lemon, first of all I find myself rather disgusted with how graphic I was in it to begin with, but regardless it would only further categorize this story as smut. Only taking away from the plot.

More of why Les Soldats took the initiative to contact Noir will be explained, briefly. An immense secret will be brought to light, or in this case darkness, as the very world itself begins to shake in the wrath of Les Soldats.

Both Seras and Akane ARE original characters of my own, and no Seras is not taken from Hellsing. More on their states will be revealed shortly, as will a little of their pasts and role in Les Soldats.

Mirielle's reaction in the morning… Originally I planned a rather harsh confrontation with Kirika but decided against it. It would have created an undesired rift between the two characters. However, Mirielle still felt a lot of unease. She had shown the darkest, and most vulnerable parts of her, to Kirika. Something she had never done before, and thus when she is reduced to her normal state of mind, she becomes conflicted. Hence anger, and her huge mood swings. Sigh… How Kirika ever puts up with her bitchy character is beyond me in this…. Perhaps Kirika shall have a little revenge on Mirielle? Although in a completely different way. You are welcome to guess at this, and congratulations to anyone who figures it out.

Reminder: I am still searching for a BETA, message me if interested….

Written by Inuyoukess….


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